In Which Hanna Breaks
by Misty78
Summary: He promised to never leave... somehow the boy always knew he would break it.
1. Chapter 1

He didn't like to think about how it had happened.

He remembered it, clear as day. He remembered waking up to an empty room, no soft glowing eyes to greet him when he woke. No deep voice telling him the pancakes were almost done, or he looked like he needed a shower. No comforting smell of dust and Earth filling the room.  
Nothing.  
Now, Hanna wasn't the type of guy to let his emotions show, even when he was alone. At least, not his true emotions. So when he looked around the room, half awake and in a daze, it didn't alarm him too much. There were times when his zombie partner left for a few hours to walk the city, it was normal. But he was always back to make the redhead boy his breakfast. Always.  
Hanna got to his feet and blinked, rubbing away with tiredness from his electric blue eyes. He threw on his long t-shirt and hummed a little tune, quiet and happy like. Even if deep inside the dread and fear was already starting to take its toll.  
His partner wasn't here.  
Something was up.

Hanna had forgotton how lonley it got when he was without another human lke figure to speak to. Yes his zombie was... well, dead. But he always held some sort of intresting conversation, or simply listened to Hanna talk. It was weird to have to be so quiet, the redhead wasn't used to it. He spent the next few hours pacing the house, shaking his head and questioning his own mind.  
No, he knew his partner wouldn't leave him. He swore over and over again he wouldn't. He swore it everytime Hanna brought it up, placing a soft kiss on his lips and giving him the most promsing gaze, his glowing eyes, golden and soft, expressing a smile he refused to show on his face.  
Hanna always knew he meant it, he didn't need a smile to prove it. He trusted the green man, and his promises. He didn't have a real choice there anyway, he knew he trusted people way too easily. But Galahad wasn't like them, he was diffirent. The ginger couldn't explain it with words, let alone name every little thing that made the zombie so imporant to him. He already knew he was the dead mans world, and it made him feel like he was something imporant too. Like he mattered to someone.  
That alone was enough to make him happy he was alive on this Earth.

Night came around, and a snow storm hit with all its force. He could hear it slam against the sides of the apartment. Normanly he shrugged it off and discussed little things like work and recent paranormal cases with his partner to drown out the storm, and create a comforting glow in the room. But this time he was alone, and the room was as dark as ever, no glow, no dusty smell.  
Hanna curled up in his blanket, which was covered in little holes from the moths. He hugged his knees to his chest and stared off into space, his mind still in a state of shock and confusen. He had _no_ idea what was going on, and he just couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it. The more he tried, the more the dread bubbled in his gut, making him want to throw up. He longed for Galahad's warm gaze, and the soft sound of him turning the pages of his book. The room felt too empty without it, too... lonley.  
That was a word Hanna had hoped and prayed he would never come across again.  
He closed his eyes and whimered, feeling the cold air from the storm leak through the cracked window (It never seemed to shut anymore) and brush his pale skin. If the zombie were here, he would tell him to put some warmer clothes on. But he wasn't, so Hanna refused. It was silly, but he couldn't help but wonder if he did something stupid the dead man would show up and scold him. Getting a cold in the end would be worth it of course, if he even showed up in the first place. He couldn't possibly be gone for more then a night, it just wasn't like him. Was he thinking about the redhead, all curled up, waiting?  
Hanna could only hope.

_But... what if he left?_

No. He wasn't going to let something so foolish mess his head up. Something so stupid, and unlikely. He had promised he wouldn't leave. He promised. And Hanna trusted him, so everything was going to be ok... he knew it was, it had to be. He was going to come back, dammit. There was no way in fuck he was leaving. That just wasn't like him.  
Hanna knew this.  
But he still had endless nightmares as he slowly drifted off into a troubled sleep, the cold turning his nose pink and sneaking its way around the small bed.

Morning came, way too soon. The sun creeped its way through the window, relfecting off the snow laced around the edges of the window frame. Hanna stirred and cracked his eyes, his heart leaping in his chest when he remembered his hopes the night before. He popped out of bed and looked around fast, making sure to scan every area of the room.  
His wide grin soon faded into a scoll when it turned out to be just as empty as before.  
"Jackon? you h-here?"  
His voice took him by surprise for a moment. It was cracked, and weak, heavy with worry. He guessed that was what happened when you didn't talk for a whole day. He shook it off anyway and stood, his joints stiff with cold, shaking. He took a deep breath in hopes of catching some remaining scent of the zombie, but the wind seemed to have carried it all away. He felt his hope drop like a rock, his shoulders sagging. He couldn't ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he wasn't even hungry. The idea of eating anything made his insides turn.  
God dammit, he wanted his Galahad back so badly it hurt to breathe. And he was going to find him, if it killed him.

Throwing on a jacket and a simple pair of checkered shoes, the redhead made his way out the door, ignoring the bright sunlight that blinded him for a moment. He walked fast, reaching the park in no time. This was where he always found his partner some nights, when he was out walking . He would be leaning against a tree, reading sliently. Those were the nights when Hanna couldn't sleep, and snuck out to find the dead man. He would scold Hanna for a bit, trying to get him to go back to the warmth of his room, but he refused. Of course he was forced to give in after ten minutes of pleading, and would open his long arms, letting the redhead snuggle against him and tuck his head under Galahads, relaxed and comfy, reading along with the zombie.  
Those were the nights he loved the most, and the memory of them was what sparked some faint hope his partner was here, some where.

He searched, his blue eyes scanning the park. There seemed to be nobody here at the morning hours, all but one older looking man with jet black hair, and huge blue eyes that reminded Hanna of someone...

"Hey, you, kid! what are you doing out here his early?"

Hanna frooze, turning to stare the man down. He felt the annoying urge to respond with a scowl, asking the man why he gave a shit. But he knew he wasn't like that, maybe it was just the fear turning in his stomach that made him wanna rip someones head off.  
"Hey, have you seen a, err, man around here any where? he likes to paint his skin green, its for a band thingy... he might of been wearing a hat, and a tie? orange shirt?"  
Hanna felt his voice coming back, making it easier to adress the man without looking like a fool.

"Hmm? wait... do you mean...my b-brother?"

The man's blue eyes sparked to life when the word "brother" came out of his mouth. He looked as if he had just remembered something important.

"Uhh, no, I think you might be confused. David doesn't have any brothers..."

The man ignored Hanna's protest, a huge grin spreading across his face. "No, you have to be talking about my brother! he was gone for fucking ten years, everybody told me he was dead, would you believe that? ha! I found him, like I promised my mother, I swear shes stupid sometimes."

The redhead felt as if someone had punched him in the face.

The man didn't stop there, he kept going, his grin getting wider at every word.

"He came back! I think he forgot all about me, being dead and all. It didn't shock me as much as it should have, I've always been into all that weird stuff, ya know? but he came back just last night! I was looking around for his hat, he said he dropped it here or something... hey, aren't you Hanna Cross? the paranormal guy? you might know a thing or two about my brother, he's a zombie!"

He kept going still, his voice taking a higher pitch with pure joy when he mentioned his brother being a zombie. But Hanna wasn't listening anymore, he felt his head spin and his eyes burn. Something popped within him, like a bullet to the chest. He felt his knuckles turn white from the pressure he put to them, balling them up in a tight fist. He couldn't think, all the words spilling out the mans mouth pounded in his head, spinning around like a hurricane.  
Hanna saw red.  
All he heard was the sound of his fist slamming against the mans nose.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! HE'S NOT YOUR FUCKING BROTHER!"

He stumbled back, the blood pouring from his now broken nose. Hanna yanked back and felt the color return to his eyes, he could see now, and the sight in front of him took him by surprise. But only for a moment. The anger soon reared its ugly head once again.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? WHERE IS HE? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HIM?"

The redhead grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the wall, ignoring the fresh blood from the mans nose that dripped on his knuckles.  
"I- I don't know what you're talking about! he came to me! he came looking for me!"  
The man stuttered and whimpered, but Hanna was having none of that bullshit. He growled and dropped the man at his feet, whipping around, struggling to catch his breath.  
"Please, I... I don't know whats going on..."

Hanna turned and glared, his blue eyes on fire with rage and betrayal. "SHUT UP! _Just_... _s-shut up_..."

The tears came, even if he struggled to hold them back, they came anyway, dripping down his face and onto his ripped up jeans. He closed his eyes and whimpered, the anger soon fading into a crushing feeling of hurt. And heartbreak.  
The man got to his feet, staring at the smaller redhead, before stumbling a bit and turning his back to leave, his hand cupped over his nose.  
Hanna didn't hear him go, the tears soaked his face. He whimpered a bit more softly, wrapping his arms around himself. He felt as pathetic as he looked.  
But the hurt increased, as if his heart was being ripped in two. He let out a faint sob, giving in to the urge to just let himself go in agony.

He promised...

Hanna grit his teeth, his mind spinning like a record. His stomach turning with intense hurt, and rage.  
So much rage. He broke his promise, he was just like the boys damned parents.  
He lied, just like everyone else did.

The redhead felt something change in him, like an old light switch, flicking back to life.

The old Hanna was dead.

The new Hanna had just begun.

_"He p-promised..."_


	2. Chapter 2

The redhead threw himself on the bed, his white knuckles gripping the sides. He felt his chest get tighter, making his breathing short and raspy like. He felt like a damn fool, if Worth were to see him this way he would get called a string of nasty names involving princesses and fairys.  
He didn't give a fuck right now.  
The salty tears flowed, he had given up on trying to hold them back an hour ago. He couldn't think straight, even if he tried... his mind was a mess of images and voices. And they all seemed to contain his partner.  
That damned traitor.  
Hanna was pissed. No, he was beyond pissed. He felt as if someone had stabbed him in the back. After all he did to impress the dead man, and after all he went through just to make him happy. After all the time he wasted rubbing his arm nervously, struggling to find the right moment to tell the green one about his ever growing feelings. And just when he go the balls to do it, he LEAVES?  
What gave him the right to do that? how could he have the nerve to just... walk out? go running back to this family, the family he swore he had forgotton about and no longer cared for?  
He lied to Hanna's face and he knew it.

He curled up and wrapped the blanket around himself like the night before, burying his face into the cloth. He breathed in a slight hint of the zombies musty scent, sending a wave of pain down his body. He let out a strangled choking noise and sobbed, gripping it as close as possible. His small body shook with the sobs, his eyes burning like fire, his frame shaking. Not from cold, but from agony.  
_What if... it was his fault?_

He stopped and opened his eyes, blinking the blurry vision away. He took a deep breath and pondered it for a moment, trying to remember what he had done to make Galahad hate him. He was distracted for a minute by the painful idea of the zombie hating him... it wasn't possible, he knew it. He may have left him, but he would NEVER hate him.  
He struggled to think back on what took place before the night he dissapeared. Hanna remembered the vampire they had to fight, it was a loner making its home deep in an alley. Galahad didn't like the idea of fighting it off at all, but of course Hanna tugged on his long arm and begged him, saying how it was their job and it was important.  
When they got there, the thing attacked them at soon as it layed its glowing eyes on them. It sliced open a rip on Hanna's arm (which was still there, stitched together and healing) and tore into the zombie, who fought back the best he could, but the blood sucking demon had the upper hand, knocking the dead man out cold with his freaky like claws, which reminded Hanna of a cat more then a vampire.  
Galahad was hurt, but being dead meant it didn't affect him too much. He woke as fast as possible and dragged Hanna away from the vampire, who never did get chased away from the alley.

Hanna stopped, his mind coming back to reality. That had to be it! he let his partner get hurt, knocked out like a fairy princess (as Worth would put it). It was his fault he left! he fucked up, he...  
he was a screw up...

Curling back up, the boy felt his insides twist and turn with this new realization. If it weren't for him, then his zombie would still be here, and he wouldn't be alone once again. He was such a fucking mess up... he wanted so badly to just close his eyes and never have to open them. What was he thinking? god, he had to fix this. He just had to.  
But Galahad didn't want anythig to do with him anymore. And he didn't blame him. He was always messing everything up, every moment he was awake, he was doing something stupid.  
He... he wanted to fix it. He wanted to rewind time and take it all back. Every mistake he made.  
His partner always said he didn't mind that Hanna was a total fuck up, but that was a lie. It was. He knew that now.

_It... was his fault._

The redhead let out another choked sob and whimpered, the fresh tears falling slowly, tickling his skin. He bite down on his bottom lip, giving it his all to stop the water works. He didn't deserve to cry, he didn't deserve to feel hurt, or any emotion. All he deserved was to close his eyes and sleep, hopefully to never open them again. all this time he put his beloved partner through hell, forcing him to watch him fuck up every case and everything they did together. It wasn't fair. No wonder he left.

Hanna didn't even remember going to sleep, or the tears stopping. All he rememberd was drifting off into a dream, where he stood over a cliff, staring down at the green man under him, who held on with one hand. He felt emotions he never knew he had swirl around inside him, making his face twist in an out of place grin. He spoke, but his voice was nothing like what he was used to hearing. He didn't even remember what he had said, the next thing he knew he was watching his dead partner fall into a crazy like river below him, which turned red with blood as soon as the waves dragged him under. But Hanna didn't cry out in pain as he watched his partner drown. He simply laughed, a cold hearted laugh, that was drown out by the sound of Galahad's scream.  
And all he could do was watch and grin, unable to stop himself. It was too late.

A pair of pale eyes peered through the cracked window, watching the redhead boy toss and turn in his sleep, whimpering from what seemed to be a nightmare. A graying hand gripped the window frame, the eyes never leaving the small boy in front of him.  
He grinned and moved away, his long coat around his skinny shoulders.

This was just _too_ easy.


End file.
